Friend found and missed
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: You've only just started spending time with your friend again when the Goddess' whims cut such time short. From Galian Beast's point of view.


_**Disclaimer:**__** I own nothing from FFVII, not the settings, not the characters, not the names. Nothing. I own absolutely nothing. It is all the property of the wonderful Square Enix.**_

* * *

It's been months since you last glimpsed the WEAPON, even longer since you've managed to have some time with him. You miss him, your friend, the Master, the one more in charge than the Host, the one with fierce nature and gentle touch. The one who actually treats you as a sentient being, and not some dumb canine brute.

You don't realise it, but as the days turn into weeks ad the weeks into months, your mood worsens and the few times you fall into "slumber" in the shared mind, you cry out for him. You miss your friend, terribly so, and eventually - _eventually_ - the Host lets you out to visit him. You've never run quite so fast before, large lungs heaving in controlled bursts of breathing as you bound through the streets of Kalm. From the inhabitants there is no alarm, perhaps because they are used to seeing him, but you don't care for such trivial speculation. The Host has given you control of the body, freedom, and you're not going to waste it. Not with the other two being so terrified of Master that they'd do _anything_ to avoid him.

* * *

You smell him first, that scent of darkness and blood and leather with the undercurrent of power and masculinity that is solely _Chaos. It's fresh, not even an hour old, and you drop to all fours and put your nose to the ground to better follow the scented path his feet have left behind._

You smell him first, but he's the one to sight you, gravelly voice calling out in surprise. Galian. You've always been Galian to him, never Beast. Just Galian. You call back in a sharp bark of sound, running straight for him and not making a single attempt to slow down. Had you caught him by surprise, the bone-jarring collision would have knocked him on his ass, but he's had time to brace himself and so it turns into a brief attempt at overpowering each other. Another thing you so like about Master - he was always wiling to partake in a _friendly_ scuffle that wouldn't turn into the violent displays the other two were fond of. And Host had too big a tree stuck up his butt to even bother mentally tussling with you.

He eventually sprawls backward, taking you down with him, and you wiggle in delight at being allowed to flop over him as you used to. You set your head on his chest, wet nose pressed to his chin and deliberately slobbering all over his neck, pinning the rest of him beneath your bulky frame. He's slighter in build, but he's always been stronger. You know he can shove you off in a heartbeat, which makes the fact he doesn't all the more pleasing. People are staring, whispering too, but you ignore them in favour of nuzzling his throat, and Master just does one of those insulting hand gestures before sharp claws are petting through your white mane and gloved fingers are rubbing at _that_ spot between your horns. You rumble quite without meaning to, a noise to convey contentment as you press into his touch, silently encouraging him to continue. Yellow eyes close to the world when he does, more than content to just laze on top of him for a while even if that pointy armour is jabbing most uncomfortably at your massive ribs.

"Have you been well, Galian?" You flick an ear at him in silent response, too relaxed to bother attempting worded thought for him to listen to. He knows you well enough to take that as positive confirmation that you've been fine. As fine as you can be given you share mindspace with a cold-blooded lunatic and a rampaging dimwit fond of eating materia for snacks.

* * *

It's when he's cleaning off your saliva from having slicked down to his chest that you see it, the odd… discolouring on his back and spattered over his right shoulder. Bone white against the soft grey tone of his flesh. Had he not removed armour and pulled off the top half of his bodysuit, you wouldn't have noticed it. He doesn't give any sign of illness and it doesn't seem to be troubling him, but it is not natural to Master. You whine, pressing your snout gently to the odd markings, only to flinch back when he hisses sharply and drops the small towel. Pain. He's in pain. You hurt him. Ears draw back and down to lay flat against your skull, snuffling quietly and licking his hand in apology, not wanting to touch the tender skin again.

"It's all right, Galian, you didn't mean to cause harm. It's just sensitive." Master's voice doesn't change, and you can't help but nuzzle him when he ruffles your head, but you're watching his face and you know him well. Whatever that stuff is, it has him weary. You don't like it.

* * *

Master deteriorates in a matter of weeks, strength failing him so suddenly that the roles are reversed and you're the one looking after him, as though he's a young pup. Host lets you keep control, as he doesn't know how to help, and he aids in keeping the other two away from Master. In their efforts to ultimately cause him harm in his weakened state they trigger your protective instincts. You've never been able to overpower them on your own before, but to protect Master, your _friend_, you turn fierce and feral. Against you they fall into submission, into Pack order, no matter the time they try to rebel.

He doesn't feed, he doesn't get up, he just lays curled up at your side, moaning pitifully when the pain comes again in its waves. He tries to thrash - instinct to flee from the torment - but you carefully hold him still, not wanting to tear open diseased flesh with your claws but not wanting Master to worsen his condition either.

You stay by his side for the three months he fights the killing curse of the Goddess, never straying even though you want to whine and howl at seeing him slowly but surely waste away each day until he can no longer pet your head or whisper your name or even turn cold face into your warm fur. You know he doesn't have long left when each breath starts sounding like a death rattle and his heart falters every few beats.

* * *

"Galian…" You turn your head to stare at him, shocked by the scratchy whisper. He hasn't made a noise in _days_. You pause, though, at the dull gaze, and the sound you make is pitiful, not even a whine, but something smaller, more sad, more pleading. No no no, you don't want him to leave. Not Master. He's your friend. He's the only one to treat you with respect. He's the only one you have fun with. Chaos can't go… but you've both been waiting for this, the inevitable. Frail hands - skeletal things now - settle on either side of your muzzle, and he plays with the fur as much as he can with such sluggish fingers.

"Goodbye, my friend."

* * *

Chaos' passing is marked with your mournful howl, rubbing your head where his body had been before dissolving into the Lifestream as though to still nuzzle him. You wail in your head, a loud _keening_ that shows your grief, so strong it has tears falling from red eyes when teh Host finally takes control again.

You go silent after a few hours, retreating into a corner of the shared mindspace and refusing to be coaxed out or respond to the others.

You don't ask to be let out again. It's as though you're no there. Just a shadow, a spectator, nothing more.

You miss him.

You grieve for him.

Minerva steals away your only friend.

Chaos doesn't come back.


End file.
